


Muscles and Bones

by NB_Cecil



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Exams, Gen, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Nudity, Starfleet Academy, Touching, Writing on Skin, mckirk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:35:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24096673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NB_Cecil/pseuds/NB_Cecil
Summary: The Starfleet Academy command track ishard. The depth and breadth of knowledge is a challenge, and Jim Kirk is falling behind. When he fails Human Physiology, his friend Leonard steps up to help him study for the resit.Or . . . How Bones got his nickname.
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	Muscles and Bones

“Question nineteen.” Leonard read from the padd in his hand, feet propped on Jim’s desk. He lent back in the chair. “You wrote ‘zygomatic bone’.”

“Was I right?” Jim, reclining on the bed among a sea of padds, textbooks and papers, looked up from his doodling. 

“No. Look at the padd, _please_ ,” Leonard said through gritted teeth. Jim dropped his pencil on the duvet and picked up a nearby padd with a sigh. “The zygomatic bone is in the skull—”

“Aha!” Jim interrupted, sitting up with a triumphant grin. “It _is_ a bone. I knew it!”

Leonard ignored the interruption. “Question nineteen is a diagram of the shoulder. Which bones make up the shoulder, Jim?”

Jim tapped a finger rapidly on the edge of the padd and frowned, hoping Leonard would eventually find the silence so excruciating he would break it by answering his own question.

After a tense moment, Leonard tutted and put his padd down. “You scored three on the ‘skeletal system’ section.”

“That’s not too bad, is it?” 

“Out of twenty questions.” Leonard shook his head. “And your score on the ‘muscular system’ section is—”

“Alright,” Jim threw his hands up in despair. “I’m going to fail Human Physiology. _Again_. And then I’m going to flunk out of the Academy like I’ve flunked out of everything else I’ve ever tried to do. I may as well pack my bags now and move back to Iowa. My stepdad will be delighted.” He punctuated the final word with a kick at a heap of papers piled haphazardly on the corner of the bed. They slid onto the floor.

“Are you finished?” Leonard asked. He got up from the chair, went to the foot of the bed and began picking up the papers. 

“Sorry.” Jim mumbled. “I’m—I’m just . . . This is really hard.”

“Ok.” Leonard sat down on the bed, holding the papers he’d gathered in his hand. “I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to pass these resits or you’re out of the Academy.”

“Captain Pike’s going to be so disappointed when I fail.” Kirk sighed morosely.

“Hey.” Leonard slapped the sheaf of papers into Jim’s chest. “You haven’t failed. Yet.”

Jim caught the papers and set them aside on the mattress. “Thanks, Len. You’re full of positivity.” He said.

“You’re a fine one to talk.” Leonard gave his friend and stern glare. “I came here to help you study, not to listen to you catastrophising. If you want a counsellor, Cadet Services is across the campus and they’re open til eight.” He rose to leave.

“No, please.” Jim said, a hint of a whine in his voice. “I need your help.”

“Ok,” Leonard relented, his hand on the door panel. He looked at Jim, a grin spreading over his face as an idea formed in his mind. “Get your clothes off and I’ll help.”

“What? No!” Jim sprang up from the bed. “Why?” 

“We’ll start with the muscles.” Leonard moved to the desk and sifted through the clutter on its surface. He selected a felt tip pen and waved it in Jim’s direction. “Clothes.” He repeated.

“No.” Jim clutched protectively at his waistband.

“You want my help or not?” 

“Yeah but—”

“Then trust me.”

“OK,” Jim crossed his arms and grabbed the hem of his T-shirt. “You’d better not be playing a joke.”

“No tricks,” Leonard said. Hew waited while Jim stripped down to his underpants. “Those too.” He inclined his head.

“Really?” Jim whined.

“If you don’t want my help—”

“Alright.” Jim slid his briefs down and stepped out of them.

“Come here.” Leonard dragged the desk chair over to a full-length mirror screwed to the wall. He sat down with his back to the mirror and uncapped the pen. Jim approached nervously. “Face the mirror.” Leonard instructed. He put a hand on Jim’s hip and positioned him the way he wanted. “Now, we’ll start with the thigh.” 

“I don’t know—” Jim preempted Leonard’s question.

“You do.” Leonard poised the pen over Jim’s thigh. “What’s the longest muscle in the human body? Think.”

“Mmm.” Jim hummed, frowning. “Anterior . . . thingy?” He guessed.

“It runs through the anterior compartment, yes.” Leonard gently squeezed Jim’s outer thigh. “Here.”

“I dunno.” Jim’s shoulder slumped. 

“Begins with an ‘S’.” Leonard prompted. He placed the nib of the pen at the top of Jim’s thigh, near the hip. Jim flinched slightly as he dragged it down his thigh, ending at the back of his knee.

“I don’t know, Len!” The pitch of Jim’s voice rose in a panicked whine.

“Sartorius.” Leonard said quietly. “Sartorius.” He repeated, writing the word close to the line he’d drawn. “The longest muscle in the human body. Let’s try another.”

“Alright,” Jim replied hesitantly.

“Another muscle.” Leonard prompted. “Name one.”

“What? I don’t know any.” Jim protested.

“You do.”

“Er, gluteus maximums?” Jim said hopefully.

“That’s in your butt.” Leonard gestured for Jim to turn around. He did so. “It’s the largest muscle,” Leonard reeled off information as he worked, stretching the skin of Jim’s buttock with the fingers of his left hand, and drawing the outline of the muscle. “It’s size is unique among primates, enabling us to walk upright.”

Jim craned his neck to see his reflection over his shoulder in the mirror. “Gluteus medius too, right?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Leonard grinned up at him. “Can you show me where it is?”

Jim poked a thumb into the flesh just below his hip. “Here?”

“Yeah, you’re doing great.” Leonard enthused. He wrote ‘ _Gluteus Medius_ ’ across the crease of Jim’s hip. 

They worked through the afternoon labelling the muscles in Jim’s body. Jim relaxed as he realised he knew more than he thought, and they slipped into a comfortable rhythm: Leonard asked questions, prompted when Jim faltered, outlined and labelled muscles with the felt tip; and Jim laughed and flinched away when the pen tickled over his ribs, palms, and the soles of his feet, piecing together the facts he’d memorised with the knowledge Leonard’s constant stream of chatter imparted. 

The sun was setting when they finished, casting long shadows through the window. Leonard peered through the gloom at Jim’s neck, just to the side of his throat, his face so close Jim could feel his breath on his skin, carefully writing ‘ _Omohyoid_ ’ in tiny lettering among the crowd of words and lines scattered over Jim’s skin.

“All done.” Leonard said, recapping the pen.

“Computer, lights.” Jim instructed. They both squinted as this eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness.

Jim stared in awe at his reflection in the mirror. Leonard’s spidery handwriting covered every inch of his body from head to toe. He turned to examine himself from various angles. Leonard sat on the foot of the bed, happy to give Jim all the time he needed to complete his inspection of their work.

“Len,” Jim said breathily, not taking his eyes off his reflection. “This is a work of art.”

“It’s an anatomical diagram.” Leonard corrected. “You’ve got to learn it.”

“Yeah,” Jim said, distractedly. He traced a finger over the words ‘ _Flexor Carpi Radialis_ ’ on his left forearm. “I can learn it.”

“We’ll take some holos,” Leonard said. “But first, let’s get dinner. I’m famished.”

Jim reluctantly tore his eyes away from the mirror and turned to his companion. “I can’t really go to the canteen like this.” He said.

“You could, but we’d get some looks. I’ll bring you back a tray.” 

“Thanks.”

Leonard shrugged his jacket on. “And after dinner,” He said, halfway to the door, “we’ll do the skeletal system.” 

“I don’t think there’s room.” Jim gestured to himself, indicating the scrawl that covered his body.

“You can write on me.”

Leonard was out of the door before Jim could respond.

Jim pulled on his bathrobe in the hope of avoiding smudging the ink that covered him and set to organising the mess of study materials strewn over his bed. He shoved aside the various pieces of stationary littered atop the desk and stacked the padds, books and papers in neat piles. Among the mess on the bed he discovered a large crumpled poster showing a labelled human skeleton. He stuck it to the wall beside the mirror, then sat down on the bed to await Leonard’s return.

Leonard balanced a tray stacked precariously with two plates on his arm, freeing his hand to ring the door chime. It slid open at Jim’s command. “Room service!” He announced, strode into the room, and set the tray on the desk atop of a stack of books. They ate quickly in silence, perched beside each other on the edge of the bed.

“So, bones?” Jim said when they’d stacked the empty plates back on the tray and put it on the floor beside the door ready to return to the canteen next mealtime.

“Yeah, skeletal system.” Leonard replied. “I see you found a diagram.” He nodded toward the poster on the wall.

Jim snatched up the pen from where Leonard had discarded it on the seat of the chair. “I’m ready,” he said. “Are you going to get your kit off?”

“Give me a minute.” Leonard replied. He toed off his shoes and sat down on the bed to remove his socks. Once he was undressed he folded his clothes and set them in a neat pile atop the duvet. He strode over to the mirror. “So, where are we starting?” He asked.

“Hands.” Jim said quickly, before his new-found confidence could fail him. He took Leonard’s hand in his own and examined it, pressing his thumb here and there against the flesh, mapping the bone structure in his mind as he went.

“Plenty of bones there.” Leonard said. “Let’s start with the carpals in the wrist.”

“There’s eight of them, right?” Jim said, eyeing the poster.

“Yeah, eight. You’re getting the hang of this.”

“Maybe.” Jim shrugged, his self-doubt creeping back in.

“Below the thumb, on the distal row,” Leonard said quickly, pulling Jim’s focus back to the task before the uncertainty could take hold. “Is the trapezium.” With his free hand he guided Jim’s thumb to press against the correct spot. Jim uncapped the pen with his teeth. “You’re going to have to write small.” Leonard warned.

“The next one’s the trapezoid.” Jim said as he wrote.

“Yes. And then?” Leonard prompted.

“Cap—? I don’t know. Cap—something.”

“Capitate. You’re doing good. Keep going.”

“The hamate,” Jim said, writing in tiny block caps on the heel of Leonard’s hand. “And then on the proximal row, there’s the scaphoid, lunate, triquetral and—Ah!” He tapped the end of the pen against his chin. “What is it?”

“Look at the poster,” Leonard said.

“Yeah, thanks.” Jim looked up at the diagram then resumed his writing on Leonard’s wrist.

Over the next hour-and-a-half, with Leonard’s gentle encouragement, Jim covered Leonard’s hands, arms, shoulders, neck, face and torso in neat capital letters. He almost burst into tears when, overconfident, he mislabelled the acromioclavicular joint as the glenohumeral joint. But Leonard quickly took charge of the situation, sat Jim down with a glass of water, and carefully cleaned the mistake off with a tissue soaked in saurian brandy. Jim’s tears stopped just as they threatened to spilled down his face and streak the writing on his cheeks.

Jim was kneeling on the floor in front of Leonard labelling the bones of the pelvis when an impish grin spread across his face. 

“What?” Leonard snapped, recognising the sign that Jim was forming a terrible idea.

Jim smirked up at him. “I have to label your cock.” He said.

“You do _not_ ,” Leonard said emphatically. “It doesn’t have any bones.”

“No, but,” Jim paused, smirk widening into a broad grin, “it’s a . . .” he played a drumroll on the floor with his pen, “. . . boner!” He crowed triumphantly.

“Get it over with, then.” Leonard sighed, rolling his eyes. He stood impatiently sucking air between his teeth while Jim grabbed his penis and wrote ‘ _B O N E R_ ’ in thick black letters down its length. “Can we get back to the science now?” He asked testily when Jim was finished.

Jim arranged his features into a picture of innocence. “Yes, of course.” He said, and poked his finger into Leonard’s thigh. “Femur,” he declared, “patella”—poking Leonard’s kneecap—“tibia”—the front of his leg—“and fibula,” he finished with a prod of Leonard’s calf.

“Yes, very good.” Leonard said. “You’re the perfect student.”

“I’m going to ace the resit. I can feel it.”

“One thing at a time.” Leonard sat down on the chair and waved his foot at Jim. “You’ve got to do my ankles and feet first. And don’t tickle.” He warned.

“Or what?” Jim challenged.

“I might kick you in the face.”

“I’ll be careful then.”

When they’d finished labelling Leonard’s feet, Jim shed his robe and they stood side-by-side, facing their reflections in the mirror. Jim reached out his hand and hooked his index finger around his friend’s little finger. He caught Leonard’s eye in the reflection and grinned awkwardly, their nakedness feeling weird now they had finished their task.

“You need holos so you can study.” Leonard said.

“Er, yeah.” Jim let go of Leonard’s hand and went to fetch his camera from the desk drawer.

Jim obediently held various poses while Leonard completed the holocapture of his body. When he’d finished he switched on the display and a three-quarter sized Jim floated three feet off the ground. He fiddled with the camera’s settings, adjusting the brightness and contrast until the ink stood out clear and dark against Jim’s skin.

“There,” Leonard said, “you have a bespoke anatomical model of the human muscular system.” He handed the camera over. “Now, you do me. And,” he held a finger up in warning, “if you show these pictures to anyone else, I’ll break in here while you’re sleeping and kill you.”

“Charming,” Jim said. He flicked the camera into _record_ mode.

“I’m a medical doctor. I know so many ways to kill you.” Leonard said ominously.

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Jim said. He pointed the camera at Leonard and pressed ‘record’. 

Leonard didn’t see much of Jim over the next week. When Jim wasn’t in lectures he was studying for his various resits. Leonard left him to it and got on with his own work. Although not quite as strenuous as the command track, officer training for professionally qualified cadets carried a heavy workload too. On the morning of the Human Physiology exam he gripped a steaming mug of coffee in each hand and pressed the chime to Jim’s dorm room door with his elbow. 

“Whaddya want?” Jim mumbled from under the duvet as Leonard stepped through the door.

“I made you coffee.” Leonard offered by way of consolation for waking him. He set both mugs down on the nightstand. “And your exam’s in an hour.”

“Urgh.” Jim threw the duvet off and sat up. “I forgot to set an alarm.”

“I thought I’d check you were up.” Leonard sat down on the bed.

“Thanks,” Jim said gratefully. They sipped their coffee quietly.

Once they’d finished, Leonard picked up the empty mugs and got up to leave Jim to get dressed and do his last-minute cramming. At the door he turned back to face Jim. “Which muscle group is this?” He asked, prodding his fingers into his belly just below his bottom ribs.

“Abdominals. Comprising the external and internal abdominal obliques, transverse abdominis and rectus abdominis.” Jim reeled off.

“You’ll do fine.” Leonard grinned at his friend. “Just fine.”

“Well, Mister Muscles?” Leonard nudged his friend with his elbow.

Jim stared down at the padd in his hands. They were seated on a bench outside the main administration building. Jim let out the breath he’d been holding. “Ninety-nine-point-seven-two percent,” he said.

“That has to be a record.” Leonard looked impressed.

“Nah, third in the cohort.” Jim replied.

“Ah yeah,” Leonard scowled at a passing group of cadets. “I forget this place is packed with disgusting young geniuses.”

“Bones . . . Len,” Jim touched the back of his hand.

“Yeah?” Leonard broke off his glaring at passers by to look at his friend.

“Thanks. I would have flunked out without your help.”

“You passed the rest?” Leonard asked.

“Just,” Jim said. “But yeah. I passed.”

“That’s alright then. It’d be boring as hell here without you.”

Jim slipped his padd into his shoulder bag. “You want some lunch?”

“Yeah. Let’s go off campus. You can pay.”

“I owe you more than a few lunches after all the help you gave me.” Jim said. He stood, slung his bag over his shoulder, and offered Leonard his hand.

Leonard grasped it and pulled himself up off the bench. “Just keep those holos to yourself and we’ll call it even.” He said.

“Wouldn’t dream of showing anyone.”

“Good.” 

They walked hand-in-hand to the campus exit.


End file.
